


Loyalty

by GremlinGirl



Category: Castlevania (Netflix), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Miscommunication, Post-Season 2, enslavement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 13:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16765963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GremlinGirl/pseuds/GremlinGirl
Summary: Hector has been enslaved by Carmilla to create an army for her own war, but when Isaac overtakes her stronghold, he's sure that this will be the end for him. However, Isaac shows uncharacteristic mercy, casting doubt upon his intentions and leaving Hector fearing for his life and safety.





	Loyalty

The drips of blood on white stone contrasted, deep red and staining as they plopped to the ground. Each breath was agony, every move was without ease. Hector had never felt so helpless. The vampire guards who frequented the hall where he worked were sent only to observe and to control him. The ones that brought their torture and agony only visited in the earliest hours before sunrise. Once their bellies had been sated with a feast from the villages, and their appetite was for something more carnal than even bloodletting. 

Carmilla’s forces were being replenished quickly. With every body he was brought, another monstrous form rose to power. No longer fighters in Dracula’s army, they would continue the war on humanity under her wishes. Hector was a tool in her arsenal and nothing more. She threw him to the dogs. 

A long silver chain connected to the band around his neck, and it attached him to the far wall. The chain was long and heavy, thick and unbreakable so far as he could tell. He had what he needed to work, and he was expected to do so for the entirety of days and nights, only short breaks taken to eat and rest. Carmilla’s appearances were short and brief, only coming to him whenever she needed more night forces for the war. He had no idea what their casualties were like, if the war was succeeding, or even if it had all been settled. He was cattle, along with the rest of the humans. Just one with a purpose outside of blood. 

Hector flinched when he heard footsteps in the hall, but they passed by his door and continued on. Looking up, he wiped the blood from his mouth and sat up a bit. Another horde of Carmilla’s vampires had come to him tonight for their entertainment. He’d been stripped of his general’s gear, given only a heavy burlap shirt and leather pants that were too large for his quickly eroding frame. They didn’t feed him much, let alone let him see the sun. 

His pants were around his ankles, and there was blood on the floor from where it’d leaked from him. His mouth was dripping with it, and the copper taste filled his mouth and the smell stung, metallic and overpowering. He smelled of death. He had once spoken to vampires as equals, even as their leader, but now he was nothing but a slave. They whipped him, starved him, fucked him, and worked him however they saw fit. He should have never left Lord Dracula’s side, but he had burned those bridges long ago. And the old Master was long dead. Everyone was probably dead. The other generals, Isaac…

He tried not to think of Isaac too much. How disappointed he’d be. His anger at learning of Hector’s disloyalty. Isaac would have killed him without a second thought, he was sure. Then again, at this point, death would be a mercy bestowed upon him from a higher power he didn’t believe in. The pain and the hunger gnawed at his spirit, and Hector couldn’t see the light ahead. There was no light. He was alone in the world, waiting until the day Carmilla lost the use for him, or he died of exhaustion. 

Hector gathered himself slowly, standing and pulling up his pants, tying the drawstrings closed and limping over to lean on his working stone. The slab rose from the center of the room, his hammer sitting atop its cold surface. It functioned as his bed and his work station, and with some effort, he climbed up onto it and laid down. Cezar was long gone. He had nothing. His hair was ratty and fell in clumps around his face. The snow covered mountains of Styria sat outside, the chill of the wind slipping in the cracks and filling up the old stone walls. 

Isaac had once told him there was no way to hide from heat, but Hector thought even that would be more merciful than this unrelenting chill. It sunk into the bones and stayed with him through the days and nights, no matter what he did. Some days, he thought his fingers were so wrought by the freezing temperatures that he wouldn’t be able to lift his hammer. But, if he didn’t, his handlers would come and beat him until he began to work again. His fingers tugged at the burlap shirt, dragging it tighter around his thin frame and trying to work warmth back into his body, but of course, nothing worked to bring relief. His eyes closed for a few minutes of rest. 

The clank of the door being unsealed woke him, and Hector slowly opened his eyes. He looked toward the wall, delirious, wondering how long he’d been asleep. There were footsteps behind him, but he didn’t move. Perhaps they were bringing him his daily rations. Perhaps they were coming to beat him some more. A hand grabbed at his shoulder and Hector found himself jerked back around and flat on his back, staring up at a strip of leather, rows of sharp spikes embedded in and dripping with blood. Red droplets landed on his face, still warm from the kill. 

A dream then, he decided. A nightmare, perhaps. Isaac giving the final blow to his traitorous body, punishing him for his crimes and betrayal. Slowly, Hector looked to the familiar face that looked down at him. His arm was raised, poised to strike, and the expression on his face was as unreadable as ever. The leather didn’t strike. He didn’t feel the cutting of those spikes into his face, stripping his skin. He’d seen Isaac take down enemies before, and he knew how brutal he could be. There usually wasn’t this hesitance from him. 

“Well go on,” he said, to the dream. Perhaps a hallucination. “Get it over with.” 

But he didn’t, and Isaac’s arm lowered. He gently brushed his hand down from Hector’s shoulder, then gripped onto the silver chain still connected to his collar. “They leashed you,” he said, then tugged on it until Hector was forced to sit up. The dredges of sleep faded from him, ghostly whispers in his ears, and his eyes lowered to the hand holding onto the metal with confusion. “Hector.” His head snapped up to look at Isaac again. 

“You’re real,” he said, and his face was suddenly stricken with emotion. “You’re really here?” Isaac released his chain, and Hector fell back onto his elbows, still staring in absolute disbelief. He looked him over, the change in armor was apparent. Deep black leather with gauntlets on his arms, red designs imprinted on the metal, and a deep red cape slung over one shoulder. His dagger was sheathed at his side, and Isaac clipped his bloody leather onto his belt as well. 

“Yes. I assumed you knew. I have been battling armies created by you for the past five months,” Isaac said, and his voice was clipped and distrustful. Hector didn’t blame him, though. He stepped away from the work stone, allowing Hector to sit up and swing his legs over the side. He didn’t try to stand, though. “My armies are overtaking the castle as we speak. Carmilla seems to have escaped our grasp.” 

“She does that,” Hector whispered, looking down. His hair fell into his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I thought you were dead! I thought…” He wiped at his face, down under his eyes and across his cheeks, sweeping at tears that weren’t even there. He felt like they should be. Dry lips cracked as he tried to speak. He hadn’t talked this much in months, and his cracked voice showed that. “Alucard invaded the castle and killed Dracula. I knew you wouldn’t have abandoned him, so how…?” 

“He used a distance mirror to fling me to safety,” Isaac said, which surprised Hector. His shoulders straightened, and he looked at Isaac curiously. “I had to walk my way back through the desert, and have since been carving a path of destruction to Styria, so I could take revenge on Carmilla before turning my attention to the rest of humanity. Lord Dracula is dead, but I will see his goals accomplished.” 

“To kill all humans?” Hector asked, lips shaking. 

“Yes.” 

“You came to kill me. So she wouldn’t have her own Devil Forgemaster anymore.” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why did you hesitate?” 

Isaac merely stared at him, and Hector reached up to tangle his fingers along the chain. It was slack in the middle, not near its limits, but he could see where the sight of it could be surprising. “She took me against my will,” he said, softly. An admission, or a plea for mercy, he wasn’t sure. Hector knew better than to believe Isaac would let his betrayal slide, especially with his fanatical devotion to their former Lord. “I didn’t want to betray Dracula. His vision appealed to me, a cull he called it. But the way she talked, doing it for him, it sounded better. At the time, I truly believed that it was the right choice. After his death, I realized it wasn’t.” 

“She would not have won,” Isaac said, cutting through Hector’s words mercilessly. “Her people didn’t kill Lord Dracula. It was his own traitor son, Alucard. One day, I will purify him with blood. His half-human nature was always a weakness toward seeing the corruption of the human race.” Isaac shifted closer, and Hector found fingers on his chin, tilting his head upwards. “But that same corruption infested Dracula’s court. I learned that no one is pure, not even vampires. Dracula would not have fallen, unless he let himself fall. He was too strong, too powerful. But he cast me out, to the desert, and I know that it is my mission to continue his work.” 

“And to do that, you have to kill me.” Hector shoved his hand away. “Don’t worry. I have come to crave death. It would be a release compared to what my life has become. A mercy.” 

“You became the cat’s toy, did you not?” Isaac asked, and Hector nodded his head. 

Shame filled him. “More than you know,” he admitted, softly. Standing, his legs swayed, and he heard the chain clink against the floor as it shifted on the stone. “I won’t fight you. I am ready to die.” 

“No.” Isaac suddenly clasped him by the chain again, dragging him closer. Knees shaky, Hector went to him, bending and grasping at the cloak around his shoulders to try and keep standing. “You will be my Devil Forgemaster now. I cannot continue to create my own armies all myself. It would be invaluable to use your skills as well.” 

“Must I?” 

“It is either that or death.” 

Hector looked down as he gathered his feet under him. He felt weak, but his strength was slowly returning. A drop of water or some meat would surely help him, but he didn’t feel as though Isaac would be giving him anything of the sort at present. Releasing his cloak, Hector stepped back and leaned on the stone behind him, reaching around and feeling across the cold surface for his hammer. He lifted it into his arms, watching as Isaac strode across the room and to the wall where the chain met up with the stones. 

Isaac grabbed onto it, pulling the end taut before pulling out his dagger. A red glow took it over and he slashed it clean through the chain, as if it were nothing but roasted animal fat. It all feel in a coil to the floor, clinking against the stones heavily. Hector walked forward slowly, gathering the chain in one hand. As he reached Isaac, another hand wrapped around the chain near his neck, and he winced as the dagger tore through the metal there as well. He dropped it unceremoniously, feeling shaken at having the heat of magic so near to his neck. 

“Are you sure you aren’t scared of dying?” Isaac asked him, sheathing the blade once again. The red glow had gone out of it, leaving it cool and black once again. He didn’t give Hector a chance to answer before he was striding out of the room, leaving Hector to hurry along behind him. 

Carmilla’s castle was wrecked. It had been an old stone monument on the side of a mountain, covered in snow all year round and a safe haven for the vampire armies and the night creatures that Hector made for her. Of course, it had never been as striking as Lord Dracula’s roving castle, but it had been nice. The entire western wall had been ripped out and exposed during the battle, probably blown away by fire or torn down by battling creatures. He could see the red, glowing eyes of Isaac’s army as they watched them from the remaining shadows. Hector slowly limped his way along, out and over the crumbling stones to a large, black horse that sat calmly in wait of its master. 

He clenched the hammer in both hands, shivering as the cold wind licked over his body. The short sleeves of the rough burlap did nothing to keep the biting chill away from his skin, and his feet were bare and sinking into the snow around them. His hammer was taken, stowed in the saddlebag, leaving him staring at the snow uselessly. Seeing his breath, Hector tried to make himself smaller, carefully breathing onto his hands to warm them. His breath was cold. It felt worthless to even attempt comforting heat. 

Isaac was already on the horse by the time Hector looked up again, his eyes blinking blearily against the cold. There was a soft snowfall beginning to fall, and he could see the sunlight beginning to lick over the horizon, spilling hues of orange and red across the ghostly white landscape. A far throw from the lively woods that had once surrounded Dracula’s castle, full to the brim with life, the snow-capped mountains seemed barren to Hector. He felt the whip of wind, a lonely howling as it tore through the plains and dips in the mountains. 

“Come on,” Isaac said, offering him an arm. Hector stared, surprised by the offer to climb onto the horse. But his feet were close to frost-bitten, and he couldn’t really see a reason to ask. Grabbing onto Isaac’s arm, he hefted himself up on the horse next to him, settling in the front of the saddle and leaning his body back into Isaac’s chest. Isaac was firm behind him, and before Hector could even shiver, he felt the heavy weight of the blood red cloak wrapping around him. “Keep warm,” was whispered quietly into his ear. 

From the castle, the army poured out, eyes glowing red and teeth gnashing at the air. They all looked rabid and angry, some large and some small, some appearing almost human with skin missing from their faces and arms, and others taking on animalistic appearances. Large bird-like beaks, claws that dragged the ground, leathery wings that beat the air and stirred it up, tails, fur, and scales. Isaac clicked, reaching around Hector to take the reigns, and the horse began to trot off, the horde army moved in swiftly behind them. 

He was wrapped up, strong arms on either side of him, and it was hard to see around Isaac’s shoulder behind them. Hector decided to settle in, holding onto the saddle horn to keep balance as they rode. The cold still bit into him, at the tips of his exposed toes, against his cheeks, and the skin reddened as sharp chill ate at his defenses. Eventually, he turned and buried his face against Isaac’s shoulder, trying to keep warm despite the biting cold. At some point, Hector fell to sleep, the rhythmic rocking of the moving horse a lulling continuance, the cold aiding in letting his mind go numb. 

“Hector. Hector, wake up.” 

His eyes peeled open slowly, and Hector looked around in confusion. He wasn’t on the ground. He wasn’t on the horse. Confusion swirled up his thoughts, the cold and the tiredness mingled inside his brain, sloshing his thoughts like the icy rivers that cut through the land. He pursed his lips softly, finding them dry, cracked, and chilled. He wondered if his toes would turn blue, soon. Had they already? 

He was in Isaac’s arms, and the man was carrying him away from the horse that was tied up at a post, and he blinked slowly as he tried to place himself. It was still cold. There were snowflakes on his cheeks. He could feel them land, begin to melt. A building was in front of them, and Isaac shoved against the door with his shoulder until it opened. 

“Is this your castle keep?” he asked, knowing good and well this was a simple cabin. 

“The villages have mostly been abandoned. The people who are not dead have picked up and left the region. There are many empty homes between here and Wallachia. And you are cold. I assumed you’d want a bed to sleep in.” Isaac slowly settled him down onto the floor, cool earth patted down. There were holes in the roof, and a few streams of light poked through, though they were slanted as the sun slowly began to sink over the horizon and disappear from view. They had been traveling all day, and Hector had slept through most of it, yet Isaac had still thought to stop. 

The cabin wasn’t much warmer than the outside, but it was blocking the biting wind.One room, with no windows and a single door in the front, it seemed quite suited for a place to spend the night instead of continuing through the snow. Hector took a few steps, arms wrapped around himself as he headed toward the bed in the corner. He only stopped when he saw the blood stained against the far wall. Whoever had once lived here hadn’t made it out alive. “You are propagating your own war now, correct?” he asked, his voice low and nervous. 

“We’ve already had this conversation.” Isaac unclipped the cloak from around his shoulders and set it down on the small table. There was a mug of something, probably a brandy or whiskey, sitting on the table and he lifted it up. Taking it to the door, he tossed the foul-smelling liquor out, then came to take a seat, straddling the single chair and resting his arms against the back. “I am continuing Lord Dracula’s mission, fulfilling it. He was brought low, through betrayal of the ones closest to him.” 

“Me. You can point your fingers and sling your barbs, unheeded. It makes no difference. I am aware of what I did.” Hector dropped onto the bed, gripping at the burlap sleeves and staring over toward Isaac. He felt more exhausted than he had this morning, woken by a man he was sure was going to kill him. A man he’d been sure died at the side of their Master. 

“You believe that Carmilla’s forces had any real effect?” Isaac asked, frowning. “I protected my Lord from those attacks. It wasn’t until Alucard and the Belmont hunter arrived that he sent me away. There was also a Speaker-Magician, but I will deal with them all in time. That is a guarantee.” 

“But I-” 

“You betrayed him, yes. But that doesn’t matter now, Hector. Besides, you would have always fallen prey to manipulation. Someone would have tried, eventually. If not Carmilla, then another power-hungry general that felt the need to force their own sway on the war and which way it went. It is the nature of your human condition to be a traitor. I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did.” 

Hector flinched at that, and he stood up slowly. “You don’t know anything about me. I wasn’t manipulated! Carmilla told me the truth in some ways. I was a human in Dracula’s court. He lied to me about the cull. It was a total genocide. He didn’t want to turn the humans into livestock. Isaac, you and me, we would have been his victims as well. At the end of the day, that’s all he wanted. All humans dead, including us.” 

“I was ready and willing to die for that cause.” Isaac leaned back, then he swung his leg back over the chair and stood up, grabbing his cloak. He walked over, and Hector flinched back, expecting some sort of blow. Instead, all he received was the thick fabric draping around his body as Isaac settled it on his shoulders. “You are exhausted and need to rest. I would like to close my eyes for a few minutes as well. The army will grow restless if we dawdle for too long.” 

Hector didn’t quite understand at first, and he simply wrapped himself up in the cloak as he lowered himself back onto the bed. However, his head snapped up when Isaac came closer once again, his eyes growing wide. “You want to share the bed?” he asked, stupidly. 

“There is only one. So, yes.” 

He found himself being scooted over, until he was on the far-side, near the bloodstained wall. He laid down on his back, trying not to feel awkward as Isaac settled on his side with his back facing him. Hector turned and looked at Isaac, the back of his head and his shoulders. He was lean, hard, all muscle underneath the armor...which he slept in with seemingly no problem. After a moment, Hector shut his eyes and slipped closer. 

“Don’t you hate war?” he asked, his voice barely carrying between them. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“War...it kills. It kills everything. Listen to the forests, Isaac. I’m sure Styria used to be vibrant and full of life, but now it’s quiet. We didn’t pass a single animal. There is nothing out there but cold and snow, and the bitter sunlight.” He pressed his hands against the man’s back, as if to plead with him. “The war...it needs to end now. Once you find Carmilla, once you’ve done away with me.” 

“I’m not going to do away with you, Hector.” Isaac slowly turned around, grabbing his wrists before he could pull them away. “Listen to me, do you think this is so different than what came before? That Dracula’s war was somehow more holy? He wanted vengeance for his wife, because it took them taking her away from him to recognize the impurity of humans.” 

“If I’m so impure, then why wouldn’t you do away with me?” Hector struggled a bit, pulling against Isaac angrily. “What makes me different to every other human?” 

“I have use for you in my war.” 

“Bullshit!” 

“It’s true!” 

“No!” Hector squirmed and pulled until Isaac let go of him, and he hurriedly got off the bed, thrusting the generously offered cloak off and onto the floor. Stamping across the earth floor with cold feet, he thrust a hand toward the door, motioning dramatically. “You have an army already!” He indicated the waiting horde, the beasts of the night which huddled outside in the snow, waiting for their master’s orders. “You have no need of another forgemaster! You simply want to dangle me on a string, waiting for my death. Just like Carmilla!” 

“No!” Isaac stood, walking toward him, but Hector ducked away and took to the other side of the cabin, huddling in the corner and staring distrustfully from between the strands of his hair which flopped in front of his face. “Hector, would you listen to me?” 

“I don’t want to listen. Whenever I listen to people, all they do is lie to me. Dracula, Carmilla, you. There’s no one that I can trust. I’ve never been able to true anyone!” His lip quivered, and Hector turned away, trying to disappear into the wall rather than continue this failing conversation. “You want to hurt me, just the same as everybody else. You’ll use me up, until there’s nothing left. But it’s too late, Isaac. There’s already nothing.” 

“You have your powers, you have a future ahead of you at my side.” Isaac strode forward and captured Hector by the arms, whirling him back around. “What happened to you? Carmilla couldn’t have broken your spirit so severely. You were so bright, so promising. Your forging was always better than mine.” 

“Carmilla said something similar,” he said, letting himself hang loosely in Isaac’s grasp. He couldn’t find it in him to try and fight back. Simply staring up at the man, Hector let a tear drip down his face, the first of many to fall. “When she first walked into my work-space, when she began whispering her deceits in my ear. But, you know that already. You’re all the same. Vampires, humans, whatever. You chip away the pieces of the people below you, until there’s nothing left and they crumble to dust. And then you move on, finding another person to stand on.” 

“Humanity is impure.” 

“It’s not just humanity! It’s everything and everyone. The only innocents in this world are the animals, because they do not have the mind to be cruel or callous or manipulative. There is nothing devious in the mind of a dog, or a cat, no matter what humans like to project upon them.” Hector ripped his arms away, and he shoved around Isaac to pace across the cabin again. He felt weak in the knees, shivers passing up through his body. “Dracula promised a cull. Carmilla promised safety and life. What are you promising? It doesn’t matter, because it’s all lies!” 

“I am offering you forgiveness for your own transgressions. I am promising you a place to practice your craft, collect your pets, and live however you see fit. All you have to do is help me double my armies so that I can finish this.” 

“Finish the genocide that Dracula started? Sure. Of course.” Hector scrubbed at his cheeks, the tears wetting his skin and leaving it frigid. He wondered if the temperatures were cold enough to have his own tears freeze on his face. “I don’t want this anymore. You understand? I changed my mind about it. Lord Dracula lied to me. I think he was more truthful about his intentions with you. You two were always closer than he was to me.” 

“I knew from the beginning. He would have killed us all by the end, including himself. He was very broken, the loss of his wife cemented his own depression.” Isaac carefully walked forward, and Hector felt a hand settle on his shoulder. “He was like us, in a way. You swore to never connect with other humans when your parents alienated you. My former masters showed me the true nature of humanity. Where nothing good lies. But…” 

Hector slowly turned around, blinking his eyes quickly and scrubbing at them. He wanted to rid himself of the tears that he didn’t want to admit were falling. The entire situation weighed heavily on his chest. Outside, the sky darkened and the hordes began to grow restless with energy. He heard howling from them, shuffling as they settled in the snow. Isaac watched him, dark eyes seeming to hesitate. It wasn’t in his nature to do so, and Hector puffed out his chest, staring at the man as he waited for an explanation. “But what?” Hector finally asked, when he couldn’t take the stubborn silence anymore. 

“I should have killed you at the castle. I didn’t. Even now, you look at me with hatred, and I don’t want to kill you.” He shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I’ve thought mercy for a human was worthwhile.” 

“I….” Hector shifted back, and he wiped at his face again. “I don’t hate you.” They went silent again. Another howl from outside, growling and snuffling beasts that moved about the cabin. The beat of leathery wings in the air, large footsteps in the snowdrifts. Isaac gave him a curious look, and Hector waved his hands in between them ineffectually. “I used to admire you so much. I wished I had your restraint and discipline.” 

“Not everybody can.” 

Hector shook his head. “No, and I can’t. But, that didn’t change anything. I considered you an ally in Dracula’s court, but I messed up. I know I did. I knew it the second Carmilla turned on me, told me I was implicated in something far bigger than what I’d started. But I never hated you. Or Lord Dracula. I don’t hate you now.” 

“Then why are you being so stubborn?” 

“Because!” He looked down at the leather strap hanging off the side of Isaac’s belt, iron spikes driven through the material, still chipped with the blood of humans and vampires he’d surely taken down with it, mingled with his own. Hector knew of the scars on Isaac’s back, and he wondered if there were fresh ones underneath his immaculate uniform. “Because, I woke up to find you standing over me, and I thought...this is it. This is where it ends. And I was happy. Because I want to be dead, Isaac. I want it to be over.” 

“She broke you.” The thoughtful look Isaac was giving him had Hector turning his head with shame. “You let her break you.” He felt hands roping him back in, and drawing him nearer, and it was strange for Isaac to reach out for him this way, but he went regardless. And when he was close, looking into the man’s eyes again, Hector grabbed the dagger from his belt. He shoved it against his stomach, planning to rip himself open so that there was no choice but to put him out of his misery. Out here in the cold, frozen wilderness of Styria, there was no way to save someone from a stabbing. 

But Isaac’s hands were stronger, holding his wrist tight and twisting the dagger away. Eventually, he felt it fall out of his hand and clatter down to the floor, which led to him collapsing into sobs against Isaac’s chest, clinging to him tightly. “Why? Why won’t you just let me die?” he asked, nearly screaming at the man who he clung to in the same breath. 

“You’re not asking me to let you die, you’re asking me to kill you.” Isaac clasped his shoulders, shaking him, and Hector felt his head snap back as he cried. “Do you not understand why I can’t do that?” 

Twisting, Hector pulled away and he dived for the dagger on the ground. Isaac came with him, tossing him onto his back and straddling his hips. Hector felt his wrists pinned to the ground easily, and he struggled lightly and stared up at Isaac with a beseeching expression. “Why not? You’ve killed traitors without consequence before. You always said you’d remove anyone that was a threat to our Master. Why am I any different?” 

With narrowed eyes, Isaac leaned in over him. Hector twisted his wrists, feeling how Isaac’s fingers tightened around them. “You don’t understand.” 

“No! I don’t!” 

“I felt it was obvious.” Isaac leaned in closer, and Hector blinked in surprise when lips brushed against his. It was a simple touch, but the feeling that rushed through him felt like a cold wind. “I value you.” Another kiss, and Isaac released his wrists. “I have always, always valued you. Since our days arguing in Dracula’s court, when you seemed so down-trodden by the war. But you remained steadfast, despite your want for a merciful cull. Even when you saw the true path, you didn’t flee from it.” 

“Yes, I did,” he argued, and Isaac shushed him with another kiss. Confused, he moved his arms and sat up a bit, squirming until Isaac got off of him and allowed him to stand. He watched Isaac pick up his dagger and slip it back into the sheath, leaving him without a weapon to dispense himself with. But, he was distracted now, anyway. “I betrayed him. I betrayed you.” 

Isaac shrugged. “It was too late by then, and I blame myself for it. I should have kept her away from you. I know your predilections leaned toward a humane cull rather than genocide, and I should have looked for the signs. My failure to keep you in check rests on me.” 

Hector shook his head. “You don’t get to pretend this isn’t my doing. I made my decisions.” 

“You did. But you wouldn’t have if Carmilla hadn’t dripped her poison in your ear.” Standing, Isaac approached again, and Hector found himself being drawn closer again. He tripped, looking down at the floor to keep his bearings. Gloved fingers gently cupped his chin, tilting his head back up. “You’re chilled. I think I may have some wool in my saddlebag. We’re another day’s ride from my latest dwelling, and I can get you new clothes and the like once we arrive. I’ll take care of you, Hector. That’s what I want from you.” 

He knew he was cold, and he wouldn’t turn down something to keep him warmer. Nodding, Hector pulled away and went back to the bed. He dropped down onto it, blinking his eyes a few times to try and knock lose the feelings that were clogging up his throat. Isaac walked back out into the cold, and Hector looked up to the holes in the ceiling. No beams of light punched through anymore, and there was a few pieces of snow falling through one and into the cabin. The flakes landed on the ground and melted, leaving a damp spot on the earth. Night had fallen, and even the horde had gone quiet during their argument. 

Isaac’s crunching bootfalls approached again, and he stepped into the cabin and brushed the snow from his armored shoulders. He held a bundle of woolen garments against his chest. Approaching, Isaac scooped up the red cloak that Hector had thrown to the ground in anger before dropping it down onto the bed beside him one again. No pride could keep him from warmth anymore, and he grabbed it up, circling his frame with it and bundling up. The hay mattress proved deliberately cold no matter what he did, after all. 

Surprisingly, Isaac bent to a knee and unfolded the garments before him. There was a pair of long socks and a scarf that seemed frayed and tattered, probably worn thin. Hector didn’t move, uncertain that he should, before his ankle was clasped and Isaac slid one of the socks onto his foot and up his leg. He flushed at being seen to this way. “I didn’t give these to you earlier because they tend to soak up snow and be functionally worthless when wet. But I’ll carry you through the drifts to keep you from ruining them.” 

“You are a deliberately confusing man,” Hector said, before biting his tongue. He’d already pushed his luck, and he didn’t know when the kindness would run out. Isaac had no motive for this. He claimed to want his work, but the horde outside proved that he wasn’t truly needed. Why he was even here confused and frightened Hector. He should have been killed already, and yet Isaac continued to draw him along. Despite what he said about value, despite the strange inclination toward physical affection, he couldn’t figure what worth Isaac was placing on him. 

“I am not trying to confuse you.” The other sock was slid on, the scarf settled on Hector’s lap, and Isaac stood up again. “I told you. I value you. I want to care for you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I value you. I feel that I have said this too many times to count, now.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Frustrated, Hector began to wind the scarf around his neck, then he tucked the cloak in around himself like a blanket, shoving himself down on the bed and turning his back to Isaac. If there was any mercy left in the man, he’d leave him here to freeze to death. But, Isaac had never shown mercy to anyone before. “Is this my punishment? You extending my life?” 

“Hector, stop being dramatic.” 

He frowned at that. This didn’t seem dramatic at all, to him. Without a response, Hector closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself. The cold was invasive, but he ignored it for the most part. Sleeping on a bed was an improvement to a stone slab in an otherwise empty workroom. He’d grown used to the smell of corpses rotting a few feet away from his sleeping arrangements. In some ways, this was luxury compared to what he’d been living with. 

“Are you still cold?” 

“A little…” 

The bed dipped as Isaac laid down behind him, and thought his armor was still on and it was hardly comfortable to have that pressed against his back, Hector leaned into the offered warmth and let himself relax. He fell asleep rather quickly after that. 

Hector woke as he was gathered from bed, held aloft like a child. “Isaac,” he muttered, voice thick and rough, and he pressed a hand to the breastplate, feeling it with a soft sigh. He’d been warm. The thought struck him, the first clear thing to work its way into his mind as Isaac carried him out into the chilled morning weather. The snow had stopped sometime during the night, and there was a big, fat sun that sat on the eastern horizon. He shielded his face from the light, watching the horde whipped up in a frenzy by the light, crowing and howling and ready to move on. 

He was used to unrestful night creatures, and he knew that being out in the day generally didn’t bring them much joy. “Where are we going?” Isaac lifted him into the horses saddle, and Hector leaned forward to grab the horn, shifting to back room. However, the other man didn’t get on behind him as he should have. 

Instead, he grabbed the reins and started walking, shoving his boots through the snow as he guided the horse. “I told you. I have a semi-permanent place in the valley where I’ve been staying while preparing for my strike on Styria. We’ll be there for a few weeks before taking a wagon caravan back to Wallachia. They’ve had time to grow complacent, I think.” 

“Do you plan to finish up here?” he asked, body rocking a bit with the horse. Slipping his feet down, he slipped them into the stirrups to help himself stay balanced. 

“I plan to look for Carmilla, send my hordes after her if they catch her trail. But I imagine she’s long gone. But she’ll be back.” He sounded confident, as Isaac usually did. 

“You blame her for all of this?” 

“Yes and no.” Isaac looked up at him, and Hector managed to maintain eye contact despite the intensity. “Alucard, as well. He, and the Speaker-Magician and that Belmont boy will be my next targets, once I gain their attention again.” 

“If...if Alucard managed to kill our master, then how do you plan to kill him? He’s obviously very powerful.” 

“I will grow in strength and number. Besides, he is half-human. That small bit of corruption will give me the advantage I need.” 

Isaac looked away, and Hector was left staring at him in surprise. He knew that this was totally in keeping with Isaac’s views, but the idea of him going up against Alucard in a head to head fight...scared him. He knew that, logically, there was no chance for Isaac to defeat him, which left him fearful for the man. However, dissuading him would be nigh impossible. Hector settled in, head bowed, listening to the crunch of snow underfoot as they walked, the rumble of larger footsteps behind them, and the beat of wings that sailed overhead. 

Minutes later, Hector looked down at Isaac, and he pursed his lips. Unspooling the scarf from about his neck, he laid it over Isaac’s shoulders. “You shouldn’t be cold just so I don’t have to be,” he said, softly. “Don’t be a bravehearted fool.” Isaac gave him a look, then carefully wrapped the wool around him, pulling a piece up over his head, which Hector could understand. They went back to silence again, the whispering winds blowing through every once in awhile. 

As the sun moved across the sky, Hector could only think of how Isaac had rescued him. And it had been a rescue, even without the intent, though he wasn’t sure it had ever been avoidable. At this point, he wondered exactly how far he’d have to go in order to justify his death in the man’s eyes. Truly, he hadn’t realized how high an honor being valued by him was. Though, he still didn’t know what that meant, the connotation of value with the actions he’d placed it in. Hector didn’t want to think on it anymore. 

They entered a valley between two mountain sometime past noon, and before the sun had set, they came upon a large structure sitting in tree cover. It was no castle, nor was it a peasant's cottage. The stone walls built up high and thick, with shuttered windows along the first and second stories. Peaked roofs to keep the snow from piling glinted dully in the light. Made of some sort of metal, then? A stable sat beside it, large in its own right, and the night hordes immediately flocked inside it. 

“Come on,” Isaac said, and it took Hector a moment to realize the arms around him weren’t trying to help him down to his feet. Instead, he ended up being carried again, up into the building as a night creature grabbed the horse’s reins and pulled it toward the stable. Into the building - a mansion, really - they went, and Hector slowly settled into the hold with a slight sigh. 

“Do you have food?” he asked, softly, and Isaac looked at him for a moment. 

“Yes, of course. I’ll have something prepared for you.” 

“Do you have servants now?” he asked, 

“I have night creatures. I have a few vampires in my sway.” 

“Impressive,” Hector muttered, almost teasing, and Isaac gave him a look. 

The mansion was warm. There were several fires going, and they lit the interior a flickering orange and red, and when Hector found his feet behind set on the ground, he went to one immediately, bending down beside it. It felt like the ice was being melted from around his bones, and the shuddering came to a stop for the first time in what felt like forever. He extended his hands toward the flames, feeling warmth lick over his fingers and up his arms. Like it was pulling him in closer. Closer and closer. He’d always been attracted to the fire, hearths that burned and crackled, wood eaten up as fuel for something so destructive and yet so life-altering. It was the difference between health and hyperthermia for some. The difference between life and death for others. 

“I am going to get a bath drawn for you, and after that, you can have as much food as you want.” Isaac’s footsteps neared him, and Hector turned and looked up at him from his spot on the floor. 

“When do you plan to put me to work?” he asked. 

“Don’t worry about that now.” Fingers brushed over his cheek, and Hector could have sworn that Isaac almost smiled. But that was ridiculous to even think, and he turned back to the flames without letting himself dwell on it. He glanced over when the scarf he’d given up earlier was dropped down next to him, a few small flecks of snow turning to water droplets on the wool fibers. The grey material was soft in his fingers as he picked i up, draping it back around himself before drawing Isaac’s cloak in tighter around him. 

He didn’t know how many minutes later it was when Isaac came for him again, touching the back of his shoulder to gain his attention. He looked up, surprised, then carefully stood and let himself be led off. There was a staircase to climb, and he felt the fatigue in his bones as they mounted each step. Even though he’d walked all day, somehow, Isaac seemed perfectly stable. The cloak dragged the ground around his feet, and Hector gathered it up and hurried along after Isaac, trying to keep up despite how tired he was. 

“Here,” Isaac said, opening the door to a room. Wood floors and stone walls, there was a hearth in the corner and a tub full of steaming water waiting for him in the center. Hector slowly stepped in, and he removed the cloak and scarf, handing them both back to Isaac. 

“Thank you,” he said, quietly, lowering his head slightly. “I’ll just…” 

Isaac stepped closer, drawing him in, and Hector blushed brightly as he was kissed again. “You should get in the water before it cools. I don’t imagine it will be pleasant to bathe in tepid water.” He stepped away, brushing his fingers through Isaac’s hair before reaching behind himself to start unstrapping his armor. Hector watched, not catching on until the breastplate and arm straps were undone and laid to the side, and Isaac loosened the white shirt underneath them and untucked it from his pants. 

“W-wait, you’re…” 

Isaac’s eyes drifted over to him, and he paused for a moment. “I thought we could bathe together,” he said, motioning toward the tub across the room. “It is large enough for two, and it saves many trips out to the well, especially with this chill.” 

Hector looked away, and he gripped the front of his shirt as he thought. His teeth scraped against his bottom lip. “Is that what I’m here for?” he asked, and the realization was like a brick thrown squarely at his chest. He nodded. This was at least territory he understood now, though he hadn’t expected Isaac of all people to be so blatant. He grabbed at the shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floor without care. And he had been stupid enough to think this was over. 

The rest of his clothing stripped away, a dead look in his eyes, Hector climbed into the steaming water and sat down. He shuddered as the hot bath swallowed him up, water up to his shoulders when he sat deeply in the wooden tub. Leaning back, he crossed his arms over his chest and furrowed his brow. Isaac was across the room, stripping down, and Hector shot a single look his way. He was broad, just as he remembered, and his back was split open with scars that raced down his back like rivers. Some were fresh enough to appear almost new, but it had to have been at least three or four days since they’d been added. “Is this the kind of corruption you hurt yourself over?” he asked, softly. 

Isaac lifted his head and looked toward him, then his eyes narrowed. Hector regretted opening his mouth at all, and he looked away and hoped to let the question pass unanswered. He should know better by this point, but it was hard to keep his thoughts to himself around Isaac. They had once spoken freely to one another, been allies. Now, he wasn’t sure what he was, but it wasn’t an equal. 

“If what you mean is...bathing and the like, then no. Even vampires bathe, or some of them do. Purity and cleanliness are...well, related cousins, I suppose, but not the faucet of one identity.” Isaac, fully nude, walked so casually toward the tub. “But that’s not what you meant, is it?” 

“No.” He stared forward, at the water that covered his body. He wished it would boil and kill him, a merciful end compared to the life being rolled out in front of him. 

One foot stepping in, Isaac hummed in thought, and Hector quickly looked away with a swallow. “So, what did you mean? What kind of corruption are you seeing?” 

“I am a pet,” he said, softly. 

“No you’re not.” Isaac sat in front of him, and Hector felt hands cupping his face and lifting it. He stared into Isaac’s eyes, his own distrustful and swimming with tears. The emotions weren’t hidden, and the calm demeanor he stared into only made his self-control lessen. “This is what Carmilla told you. What she forced you to be.” Isaac shook his head. “You are not a pet, nor are you owned. I don’t suggest you take off into the mountains on your own, but I suppose I won’t stop you if you really want to go. Though, if that’s what you wish, may I suggest waiting until we arrive back in Wallachia, where you can go back to your private cottage, your pets, your quiet life.”

Hector stared at him in shock for a moment. “You’d let me go?” 

“If you want to go, then I am not going to keep you like a slave.” 

Hector sucked in a quiet breath, and he didn’t know that he’d ever felt relief like this before. The palpable sensation filled him up warmer than the bath ever could. “You aren’t going to rape me?” 

Those hands departed his face, and Isaac recoiled from him. It was the first time he’d ever seen the man surprised by anything before. “I...no. No!” The suggestion, the implication, the horror of it was written all over his face, and that break in composure signaled a first for Hector, because the flash of emotion written in his eyes said more about Isaac than he had known about him in the year they’d worked together in building Dracula’s army. “Is that what they’ve done to you?” 

Hector nodded his head, curling his knees up tight to his chest. “The guards and soldiers. They were allowed to do whatever they wanted with me. She said that I was her pet, and it was a pet’s job to entertain.” He wiped his fingers under his eyes, spreading hot water in place of his tears, then he sniffled and tried to gather himself. “If I didn’t do my work fast enough, if I fought back, then she would send them in to beat me, if she didn’t do it herself. It was worse with her, because she thrived on it. To the rest, it was just a job.” 

“I didn’t realize.” 

“I shouldn’t have assumed.” 

“No, I should have been more considerate.” Isaac took to stand. “I’ll leave you alone. I’m...I’ve misstepped.” 

“No.” Hector unfurled, reaching for him, grabbing at Isaac’s arm, and holding onto him with all the strength he had left. “Please, please stay. I didn’t mean...I shouldn’t have assumed, that you wanted to…” 

“It’s not your fault.” Isaac gently touched the side of his face, and for a moment, they melted together, closer, and Hector closed his eyes and allowed himself to just enjoy the moment for what it was. Peace in the middle of his horror, and if this was just a wonderful dream that he would wake up from, then at least he would have had it for a moment. However fleeting. When they kissed this time, it was Hector who initiated it. 

He leaned into it, letting his legs unfurl as Isaac slowly circled him up in his arms. Legs were knocked clumsily out of the way and arms tangled around each other until they both found themselves comfortable, with Isaac leaning over him, and Hector’s body propped against the edge of the tub. The water was hot; Isaac’s lips were hotter. In all the time he’d spent in service to Carmilla’s war, no one had ever tried to kiss him before. He was glad to have saved it for Isaac. 

“And this is okay?” he asked, as their kiss broke, and Hector found himself tracing the muscles in his chest, not wanting to make eye contact. 

“I liked it,” he answered, though his voice barely carried. “It’s different than when you had me pinned to the floor.” 

“In my defense, you were trying to stab yourself.” 

Hector managed a small smile at that. “Was that a joke?” he asked, almost hopeful. 

“No.” Isaac cupped his face, making Hector look up at him. He seemed confused, and those amber eyes kept scanning over his face, as if looking for something he couldn’t quite find. “I don’t want to see you harmed, I… I went to Carmilla’s, think that you would be sitting at her right hand, as we did with our master before. I didn’t expect to see you in chains, beaten down, and while...while I knew that it would be difficult to kill you either way, it was impossible for me to do so knowing that serving her was not your choice.” His eyes finally shut, brows knitting together, and he let his lip curl. “I lost my greatest friend when Dracula died, and for awhile, i found that I had nothing left. I started to create my own army, and then the idea came to try and finish what he started.” 

“And so...when you found me…?” 

“I didn’t want to see you hurt, like all the rest. You’re the only human to ever treat me with basic dignity and respect. When you found out you would be serving beside me, there was no unkindness in your eyes. You accepted me as...a friend, even though we never thought of ourselves that way. An ally. There is nothing left, Hector. Dracula is dead, and the castle is gone. I find that, the only time in my life that I connected with genuine joy was walking those halls with you.” 

Hector slowly stroked his hand up, cupping Isaac’s cheek in his hand. After a moment, Isaac opened his eyes and looked at him. Hovering steam surrounded his face, and the open expression was more emotional honesty than he ever thought Isaac could or would show him. It broke his heart, a bit. “Thank you for saving me,” he said, because he hadn’t yet. 

“You’re welcome,” Isaac replied. 

“I know you don’t believe in it,” Hector said, carefully, “but is this love?” 

“I value you,” Isaac said. “I enjoy you. I think you’re...attractive.” 

Hector smiled a bit. “It’s alright if you can’t say it. I don’t think I can right now, either.” 

He shook his head, but Hector just gently pulled him back into another kiss. His tears had completely dried, and he felt better. He felt warm. Even when Isaac’s hands drifted down below the water, touching his hips the the tops of his thighs, he didn’t jerk away or scream or try to stop him. Hector didn’t want to try and stop him. 

“Let’s bathe before the water cools,” Isaac said, and Hector merely nodded his assent. He was lost to the sensations, and he hardly registered it when Isaac shifted to grab at something from the floor around the large tub. 

“You remember the running water in Dracula’s castle?” 

“Yes, it was nicer than this, but we must adapt.” 

“I suppose we must.” 

They bathed, and they dried off, and as surely as he’d promised it, Isaac delivered a large dinner for them to feast on. He felt lighter, and with Isaac leaned against his shoulder at the table, there was also the inkling of camaraderie that he had missed as much as the other man had. 

“Tomorrow, I’ll show you my workspace, and we can set one up for you, if you like. I’m sure the woods are full of possible pets.” 

He looked up, wrapping an arm around his middle as they walked away from the dining hall. Isaac was taken care of here, with a mix of human and vampire servants that seemed to be existing in some uneasy balance. Hector wondered if the humans here knew of what was to come for them, or if they just thought Isaac some rich, foreign nobleman. It was strange to see, him employing them, but Hector could comment on it another day. 

“I’m sure. I’d love to explore a bit. But maybe not for awhile.” He found he much preferred the warmth of inside the mansion house, and being by Isaac’s side. Especially as an arm looped around him, tugging him close. Hector let out a quiet yawn. “Can we bed down now?” 

“We?” Isaac asked, and there was blitheness in his voice. 

“Yes. We.” 

The bed was soft, and Hector sunk into it, smiling to himself. Isaac curled against his back, and he felt an arm settling around his stomach and drawing him backwards. “Have you ever shared your bed with anyone else?” he asked, softly. 

“Hmmm, no. You are the first.” 

“You’re my first, too,” he said, softly. 

“Dracula, he wanted us to be friends, you know?” 

“Really?” 

“Yes. He told me once or twice. He was quite fond of you, and he went believing you were still loyal to him.” 

Hector frowned. “I doubt that. I was close with Carmilla. He knew that.” 

“You were manipulated. And I think...I think he was aware of that. At the end.” 

“He was an amazing man.” Hector slowly turned around, snuggling up against Isaac’s chest, burrowing his face into his warmth. “You are as well. For feeding me such a comforting lie.” 

Isaac didn’t respond, except to tighten his hold a bit, and a hand smoothed through Hector’s hair gently. And, in the end, he was the first to fall asleep. Hector lifted his head once Isaac was out, looking at him as long shadows stretched across the room. The moon’s silvery light filtered through and gave everything an eerie look, sapping color and bleaching it starkly. Taking a hand, Hector stroked at Isaac’s cheek and jawline, trying not to disturb him. 

“You may not be able to say it,” he whispered, soft words in the ghostly glow of the moon. “But I think I love you. I think I have for a while.” He trailed his finger down to the man’s lips, touching them with the pads of his fingers. 

If Isaac never learned to say it, then Hector wouldn’t mind. But he didn’t plan to leave his side any time soon. His rescuer, his saint. He placed a kiss to Isaac’s cheek then ducked back down to nuzzle up against his neck. Hector dropped off to sleep, exhausted beyond measure. 


End file.
